The New Horizon ~ A Maze Runner Story

- 15 -

Minho and Aris went inside the room first. Thomas heard them exclaim something about the furniture, and Thomas was bursting to see for himself, but something else was on his mind. He turned to Brenda.
"What was he talking to you about?" He asked, watching Doctor Wells disappear further down the hallway. Brenda smirked, leaning into Thomas's ear as she spoke, "He was just asking me if I was okay staying with three boys. But I told him we're practically family . . . Unless there's something else I'm missing?" Then she was off, straight through the door, leaving Thomas alone in the hall. Confusion conjuring inside him.

Impossibly, the room was even more immaculate than Thomas imagined it could be. It smelt fresh, like artificial palm trees and coconut, covering up the acrid fumes of ammonia. A large, mirrored closet housed oversized robes and towels, even extra throw pillows and blankets.
To Thomas's left was a wide-set kitchenette full of everything they could ever need; a stove, a microwave, a refrigerator and freezer, cabinets full of plates, silverware, cups and pans.
Thomas crouched down and opened the boxy mini-fridge. A blast of cool, refrigerated air welcomed him as he scoped out the fridge's entrails--water bottles, soda cans, fruit cups. Nothing had never looked so refreshing.

"Thomas, get your butt over here," Minho called, interrupting Thomas's moment of bliss. "You have to see this!"
Thomas promised himself he'd come back for the soda. Reluctantly, he left the kitchenette and followed the strange voices coming from around the corner. Voices, Thomas thought, a television? 
His intuition served him right; in the living room, sat a television. An actual TV, as Thomas remembered once calling it. How long had it truly been since he'd seen a TV? He couldn't comprehend it. And by the looks of the two faces around him, congregated to the screen, he knew they couldn't remember either.

"A shucking TV! Hallelujah." Minho said, already sprawled out on one of the sofas.
Brenda snorted from somewhere behind Thomas. He was too captured to look away from the screen. "You've never seen a . . . Oh, wait--forgot again."
"Yeah, we kinda had our memories erased," Minho murmured from the sofa, enthralled in the wildlife show that was being broadcasted. "How do I change it? Hey, where's the remote?"
Aris was already searching out the premises, digging around at the couch, flipping the throw pillows over.
"Pst, Thomas."

He turned at Brenda's voice, finally breaking him away from his daze. "Holy crap . . ." It was as if this room kept getting better and better, never ending with possibilities; nothing compared to the bedroom. Brenda patted the spot beside her on the bed, and it called to him like none other. He catapulted himself onto the bed, barely missing the stair that almost snagged his foot. The mattress springs creaked in discomfort as he hit the bed. Brenda squealed, watching the throw pillows fly up along with him. He could hardly restrain the euphoric feel of a real, tangible bed. An actual mattress. The scratchy, patchwork hammocks in Paradise could never compare to something as glorious as that bed.
"Quite the entrance you had." Brenda said, sweeping away the loose strands of hair from her face.

Thomas couldn't have been happier. "Sorry, I've just never felt something so comfortable. At least not in, well, for as long as I can remember."
A look of sympathy clouded Brenda's face. "Yeah, I'm sorry for forgetting about your guys's memory swipe all the time."
"No, it's okay," Thomas shook his head. "I'd do anything to get my memory back, though."
Brenda lowered herself onto her back, joining Thomas as he lay there. Their shoulders inches away from touching. "Sometimes I'd do anything to forget."
The sting that followed after her remark felt almost personal to Thomas. Completely personal, actually. He turned towards her, expecting her to acknowledge him in some way, any way, but nothing ever came. She stared at the ceiling, visibly pensive.

"Is something wrong?" Thomas asked, feeling stupid for even asking. He already knew something was wrong.
"Maybe." Was Brenda's only response, eyes still glued to the ceiling, unmoving. Thomas propped himself on one elbow, waiting for her to speak. She finally did, and it came out in a pained whisper. "What happened, Thomas?"
Though he wished he didn't know what she meant, he knew all too well. "Between us--"
"Yep," Brenda nodded, now staring into his eyes. "What happened?"
Thomas cleared his throat, uncomfortable, unwilling to conjure up the past. "I don't know. I guess we just . . . stopped."

"We were pretty close."
"Yeah . . . guess I'm just not--"
"Looking for love?" Brenda answered. Her prediction was spot on. And Thomas felt a heaviness fall over him, like it was some kind of burden. Like he was some kind of burden. "There's just so much going on. I'd rather be friends."
"For now."
"Yeah," Thomas suddenly stood up. He had to walk away, and not just from the bed. From the conversation too. And more than ever, he decided he needed some real air.